


The Odds

by Paige242



Category: The Shannara Chronicles (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 07:33:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paige242/pseuds/Paige242
Summary: On their journey to Greymark, Wil and Mareth bond."Another pair of short tips? What are the odds?"(Outtake from Season 2, Episode 3)





	The Odds

**Author's Note:**

> Another silly plot bunny I couldn't shake! I like to think that Wil and Mareth had more bonding time during their adventure together (that certainly makes their romance more believable!) Here is one that I picture- and, as always, it involves Wil grappling with his place in the world. Tell me what you think. I may do more.

 “Eretria and Jax are keeping watch.” Wil stated as he took a seat next to the small fire they had started.

Night was falling now, and they were still a day’s walk from Greymark—the Crimson held fortress where they believed that Allanon was being held.

It had been a long journey so far, and he had little faith that their plan would work. But Wil refused to give into fatigue or despair while his uncle’s life was at stake.

Mareth looked towards him as she gave a nod of acknowledgement.

They hadn’t spoken much since the two new arrivals had appeared. They had fallen into an odd sense of familiarity so quickly when they had first met, and their trek to Shady Vale had been full of surprisingly easy banter. But something suddenly seemed to shift that morning. Perhaps it was Mareth’s instant distrust of the bounty hunter. Or maybe it had something to do with Eretria. Wil couldn’t put his finger on it, but his new friend had seemed more withdrawn that day.

He hoped it was nothing that he had done.

While he still wasn’t sure if she really was Allanon’s daughter, there was something about her that he was drawn to. He was already used to having her around.

He wanted to say something. Wanted to ask if something was wrong. But instead, he watched in worried silence as she began to rustle through her bag.

After an uncomfortable silence, she finally spoke.

“Are you hungry?” The girl inquired as she pulled something brown and oddly shaped out of sac. Despite the bright glow of the fire, Wil squinted at the strange (and apparently edible) item.

He hesitated. “Yeah.” He admitted truthfully. They hadn’t eaten in more than a day and had all discussed their annoying hunger that afternoon as they walked through the thick woods. Wil wondered how long she had been stowing this food, and why she had only chosen to reveal it now.

Admittedly, he didn’t know her too well, but she had not struck him as the sort of person who would greedily keep things to herself. Especially when there was more than enough for all.

The young man raised a perplexed eyebrow. “Where did that come from? And what is it?” He asked, still looking at the oddly shaped thing she was holding.

“Barkwood.” She answered simply, as if it should be obvious. “And I found it a few miles back.” She paused. “I figured it wouldn’t be fair for us to eat it in front of the humans. But it’s just us now, so why waste it?”

Wil hesitated again. Her words did little to clear up his confusion and he was not sure what to do as she looked at him expectantly.

“I, wh—”

“You’ve had barkwood before, haven’t you?” She interjected, sensing his trepidation.

Wil shook his head. “No.” He admitted, hoping he didn’t seem too foolish. “Never heard of it.”

For a moment, she looked surprised, but he was relieved when her face broke into an excited grin. It was the most relaxed she had looked all day. “Seriously?!” Mareth said, ripping off a large chunk and passing it to him. “Wow. You’re in for a treat, then.”

The young man accepted her offer but was still reluctant to consume it. She seemed to think it was something desirable, but it certainly didn’t look appetizing. It was a strange brownish green, and much squishier then he had thought.

He looked back up at her.

“Why didn’t you want to let the hu—I mean, Eretria and Jax see it?” For a moment, he wondered if her dislike for them had been even stronger than he realized. It had been odd to hear her refer to them as ‘the humans’—as if they were something quite foreign to them. Though, he realized, he had almost said the same thing himself. He silently chided himself for that.

Elf, human, troll, gnome—he didn’t want any of that to matter. He hated thinking about what divided them.

Mareth gave him another bemused look. “I keep forgetting that you were raised in a human village.” She noted thoughtfully. “Barkwood is a plant that elves love to eat. Legend has it that they brought it with them from the realm of the faerie when they first came here. It’s pretty sweet, so usually people make tarts out of it. My mom used to…” She trailed off, and he could tell she did not want to rehash those painful memories.  “But anyway, it’s good on its own too, and when I saw some in the woods back there I grabbed it.” Mareth paused again. “I didn’t want to say anything, though. Because humans can’t stomach it. Apparently, it tastes revolting to them, and makes them sick.”

“Oh.”     

 Wil paused for a moment as he contemplated what she had said. He’s heard a few mentions of ‘elf food’ in the past, but he hadn’t thought much of it. He’d assumed that it was just a different style of cooking, and it had not occurred to him that there were certain things that only some races could eat. As he thought about it, he realized that some of the dishes he had been served back in Arborlon had been odd—but they had also been delicious, and he had been so grateful for the royal family’s hospitality that he had not asked many questions. 

He’d probably had elf-only food without even realizing it.

Which meant…

“We can stomach it though, can’t we?” Wil asked, referring to himself and Mareth. He probably already knew the answer but he wanted to confirm.

His companion gave him another perplexed look.

“Yes.” She answered. “I love it. I’m willing to bet that you will too.”

Wil looked back down at the lump in his hand. It still looked off-putting, but he was unable to quell his curiosity any longer. (Plus, his starvation was pretty hard to ignore).

Daringly, he took a large bite.

It was…

Delicious.

Mareth had been right—it was fairly sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. The texture, though odd when he held it, proved to be rich and silky in his mouth. For a moment, he simply closed his eyes and savoured it.

Perhaps it was the hunger that was influencing his reaction, but Wil was pretty sure that this was one of the best things he had ever eaten.

He quickly took several more bites, nearly forgetting his dismal surroundings and dire situation as the flavours engulfed him.

“See, I told you.” Mareth said, breaking him away from his sensory overload after several long moments. She had just swallowed a bite herself and was grinning over at him. “Nothing beats elven food.”

For some reason, Wil could feel himself blush.

He was taken aback by his own reaction for a second, and grateful that Mareth could probably not see his physical response in the dim light. For some reason, enjoying this very elven thing made him feel…embarrassed?

He wasn’t exactly sure why. He knew what he was and he saw his pointed ears every time he looked in the mirror. But the fact that he had grown up in Shady Vale and had been defending himself from elven slurs his entire life made embracing that side of himself a little uncomfortable. He’d always retorted that he wasn’t an elf. Always tried to be more like his human mother.

But he couldn’t change the fact that he wasn’t.

Meeting Amberle and spending time in the elven court had helped him begin to accept that. For the first time in his life, he had met proud elves who hadn’t had to hide their ears in shame. Now, he’d finaly cut his hair and thrown away the stupid caps that he had used as a disguise.

Wil had stated to simply be himself.

He hadn’t fully embraced it, though. And he was still struggling to find his place in this messed up and polarized world.

Sure, the elves had accepted him more than he had expected, but he still didn’t know where he fit. He didn’t know where to put himself in the ever-waging battle of “us vs. them.” 

Although it had only been a week, meeting Mareth had thrown interesting new elements into the mix. She was like him—stuck in between. Human and elf. And he was fascinated to see how she dealt with this dual identity.

So far, it seemed that she was most comfortable with her elven side. He wondered if that was because she had been raised amongst elves with her elven mother, or if that was simply the dominant side of her.

…and perhaps of them both.

As the last few minutes had made very clear, Wil still had a lot to learn about elven ways—but it was equally clear that his body was very well adapted to elven things.

He took another bite of the barkwood and revelled in its delicious flavours.

Perhaps that helped to explain why Mareth was so comfortable in her own skin, while he continued to struggle.

Perhaps she had been raised in a way that was more natural for people like them…

Maybe there was only one place they could be.

“Have you ever met another halfling?” Wil blurted out suddenly, unable to hold back all of his questions anymore. So many things had crossed his mind since he had met her. There was so much he wanted to know. “Besides me, I mean.”

Mareth cocked her head before nodding. “Once.” She replied. “One of my mother’s old friends, Fairm. He had been a general in the royal army and he used to visit us a few times a year.”

Wil’s eyes widened slightly. A halfling had been a general in the royal army of Arborlon? That was certainly intriguing. Clearly that man had picked a side as well.

“I didn’t even realize he was a halfling until I was older.” She paused and let out a small chuckle. “I didn’t really realize that I was a halfling either.”

This time, Wil could not hold back his surprise. “You didn’t realize?!” He exclaimed, mouth falling open. “But…how is that even possible?”

There was a short pause as his companion gave him yet another perplexed look.

“I have pointy ears and I grew up with elves.” The girl replied with a shrug. “I spent most of my time with my mother and anyone who visited us from her days in Arborlon. Sometimes we’d go down to the small elven village by the shore. But no one ever really said anything. I guess I sort of realized that my ears were a bit small, but I figured that was just me. I didn’t figure it out until I started asking who my father was, and she finally told me that he had been a human druid.”

From her tone, Wil guessed that she had not been too shaken by that revelation. He supposed, where she lived, she had found easy acceptance and had not dwelled much on the issue.

There was another pause.

“What about you?”

Wil let out a short, bitter laugh. “It couldn’t have been more different for me.” He began, thinking back to his childhood in the village they had recently fled. “My father was hardly around and I was the only not-exactly-human in the whole region. My mom did her best to protect me, but as soon as the other kids saw my ears they made sure I knew I was different. I can’t remember a time before I was hated and bullied—maybe when I was very young, I was okay. But for most of my life, I was a target. I’m sure you know how much humans resent elves, and everyone in the village seemed to take out their resentments on me.” He paused and tried to put on a reassuring smile. He wasn’t saying this to earn her pity and he didn’t want that. “I met another halfling once. But it was only last year. There was a little girl in a fortress when I was travelling with Amberle and Eretria—her father kept her trapped there, and we tried to get her out…but it didn’t work. He got her before he could escape.”

Wil looked down at the ground, avoiding his friend’s gaze. That was another memory he hated to dredge up and it still pained him to think about how he had failed little Mags. She hadn’t deserved such a cruel fate, and he had promised to help her find a better life. It pained him to think that she had died never knowing more than that terrible cave.

“Before I met Amberle, my father was the only elf I’d ever seen.” He paused again, trying not to let his mind wander down that road either. “I felt like I was betraying my mother, but it felt good being in Arborlon. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have to hide. Even though I’m not really one of them, either.”

Mareth took a thoughtful bite of her barkwood before replying.

 “I guess it’s probably because of how I was raised,” She began. “But it always seemed pretty straightforward in my mind. In this world, ears matter way more than they should—and pointed ears means one thing, no matter how short or long. Elf.”

Wil felt a slight pang in his stomach as she spoke. He’d heard that before. Every time an aggressor had pelted him with stones or thrown him in the lake. In their eyes, his human side was cancelled out by his outward appearance.  It was an uncomfortable thought. But, at least when Mareth said it, it didn’t sound quite as condemning.

“Where is your heart?”

“Huh?” Wil replied, taken aback by her sudden question.

“I mean your actual heart. Not your emotional one or whatever.” She clarified, shifting to her left until she had closed most of the space between them. “Remember when we met in the tavern, and you put your dagger to my chest and pointed out when an elven heart is?”

He nodded. That had been a crazy and eventful night, but he did remember that moment.

“Well, you were training as a healer and you know all about anatomy, right? So you must have felt around and figured out where yours is.”

Before he knew it, she had reached towards him and placed her hand against the thin fabric of his shirt. For a moment, she held it at the top right of his chest before moving down half a foot and shifting to the left.

“Bottom left.” She noted, giving him a small smile. “Mine too.”

Wil tried to return her expression, but instead he felt a blush creeping across his face once more. And this time, she was probably close enough to notice.

This was not a revelation to him—she was right, he’d studied anatomy for a long time and knew that elves (since they originated in a different realm) were quite different then the other races. The heart was the most telling difference and was far lower down in the chest cavity then those of humans, gnomes, trolls and dwarves. He had not been pleased to discover that he differed from his human peers in more ways than one.

“Yep, elf heart.” He muttered, hoping he didn’t sound too bitter.

It was, at least, comforting to know that she was the same. He had to admit that, despite the newness of their friendship, all of their similarities made him feel less alone. He wasn’t a lonely and isolated boy hiding in a human village anymore.

He was with one of his own. 

“I think I can see and hear better than humans too.” Wil admitted, deciding that he might as well get everything off his chest. There were things that he had always suspected were caused by his strange heritage, but he had never freely discussed them with anyone. Not even Amberle. “I used to hear things and see things in the distance, and I’d tell my mom and uncle. They’d look at me like I was crazy.” He paused. “I get weird purple splotches on my skin when it’s super cold out—which thankfully isn’t too often.  But other than that, I’ve never had a single blemish. I used to get made fun of for that too, though in retrospect I’m sure my classmates were just jealous. Oh, and I get really nauseous when I eat vanilla. I’ve never had a cold or flu, though. I don’t seem to get sick. Ever. But maybe that’s just me.”

As he finished his rambling, Mareth let out a quiet laugh. “It’s not just you.” She said with a reassuring smile. “All of that is the same for me. Even the vanilla thing. It’s normal elven stuff.”

Although part of him was relieved to hear that he was not alone in these weird quirks that had long worried him, he could not stop his face from falling.

He had grown up surrounded by those who hated all things elven. It was hard to shake the feeling that all of this was some sort of failure on his part. Why wasn’t his human half stronger? The general conclusion here seemed to be that he was condemned to live the life of an elf. Just like his peers had always said with such loathing.  

He, of course, did not share their hatred of elves. But he hated that they had been right all along.

It felt like they had won, and that made him want to resist.

 “There’s nothing wrong with that, Wil.” Mareth continued, her voice softer than it had been before. Yes, she had definitely picked up on his embarrassment this time. “You are who you are. And if that means having a lot of elven traits, then so be it.” She stated firmly. There was no doubt that she was comfortable with it. That much was clear. “I get that it was different for you, growing up where you did. But I’ve seen the alternative. And I think you have a bit, too. It sucks that most humans won’t let go of their prejudice, but there is no rule that says you have to stay and put up with it.”

After a moment, Wil nodded. He knew that she was right, and he had told himself similar things before. It felt good to hear it from someone else, though. It made it seem like his hopes for something better could one day be realized.

“When you first saw me…” He began again, somewhat reluctantly. He had always wanted to ask someone, but it had always been too uncomfortable. For the first time in his life, he felt bold enough to be blunt. “What did you see? What did you think I was?”

There was a pause as she looked up towards him, her eyes lingering on his ears.

He already knew what her answer would be.

“I thought that you looked like an elf.” Mareth admitted with a slight grin. “Once you pulled down that hood, these—” Surprising him, she reached out and brushed the side of one of his pointed tips with her index finger. “Weren’t exactly hidden.”  

He felt the sensitive nerves on the ends of his ears tingle as she drew away and Wil tried his best to fight off another flush.

For the briefest of seconds, he wondered how it would feel if she did the same with her lips…but he quickly pushed that unexpected thought aside.

“You thought I was an elf, too.” She pointed out, recalling their meeting in the tavern. “So it goes both ways.”

He nodded in agreement. It was true—he hadn’t really noticed that her ears were a bit short. He hadn’t noticed when he had met Mags either.

They had simply looked like elves to him. And he was no different at first glance. It was something that he was going to have to learn to accept.

Perhaps it would be easier now then it had been before.

Perhaps she was what he needed to help him though…

Before the conversation could continue, a rustling sound from the bushes jolted both halflings into high alert and Wil began to reach for his dagger before he saw the familiar forms of Eretria and Jax emerge from the shadowy brush.  

Jax gave an annoyed huff. “I thought I could hear something back here.”

 “You’re supposed to take this opportunity to sleep while we stand watch.” The former rover noted as she glanced between the two with a suspicious gaze.

Her eyes fell on the food that Wil had nearly forgotten he was holding and her brow instantly raised.

“Wher—” She was about to question them on their secret snack before realization seemed to dawn on her face. “Oh, it’s that gross elf-root stuff isn’t it?” Eretria noted, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I tried some once when I was out scavenging and I was sick for three days. It was revolting.”

“Barkwood.” Mareth corrected, looking up at the new arrivals. “I’d have offered you some but I know it doesn’t sit well with humans. Sorry about that, I wish I’d found something for all of us.”

Eretria shrugged while Jax looked down at the food warily. “You guys _eat_ that stuff?” He asked, his eyes wide. “But it’s all…green and goopy looking.” He paused. “Elves are weird.”

Wil shifted uncomfortably. He knew that Jax meant no harm, but it was unpleasant to once again feel like he was under scrutiny for another one of his oddities. The openness he’d felt when it was just him and Mareth instantly faded.

 “I, well, I’d never—it’s not really…” Wil began, suddenly filled with an all-too familiar self-consciousness.

He wanted to kick himself for reverting to this pathetic defensiveness. So what if Eretria and Jax thought his tastes were weird? He had inherited traits from an entirely different species.  

Wil felt Mareth brush her fingers gently across his arm. The others could not see this subtle reassurance from their vantagepoint, but he was grateful for it.

“It’s delicious, you’re missing out.” Wil said with a playful shrug. He found himself filling with newfound confidence, and he smiled at Jax before taking a bite.

“Elves.” He head the other man mutter with a shake of his head.

Eretria looked perplexed as she looked down at her old friend, but she did not comment further.   

“You’ve got two hours left to sleep, I suggest you hurry up.” She said matter-of-factly. “We’ll be back to wake you up soon. Then, we’re getting some rest.”

Wil looked towards Mareth and she nodded as she put her food back in her bag. “Yeah, that’s fair.” He passed her his portion as well and she packed it away. He was full enough, and he knew that he could now sleep without the pangs of hunger.

As the two humans began to walk back to their post Wil tried to find himself a comfy spot for a bit of much-needed rest. Mareth did the same, settling down a couple of feet to his left on the soft ground.

The journey ahead would be long and, undoubtedly, full of danger.  But good things had already come from this new adventure.

She was by his side now and Wil had a feeling that she would be there for a long time to come.

As he drifted off to sleep, Eretria’s words from earlier that day echoed through his mind.     

_“Another pair of short tips. What are the odds?”_


End file.
